This is a story of a building’s becoming. It begins sixteen years ago when I was first made wholly subject to a drawing. It was not the kind commonly considered proper to architecture, but no drawing in architecture has made sense to me if not for that first. The drawing was toward music.

The work of art for the architect is drawing out relationships of embodied belonging—drawing from memory towards building. I once remembered a beloved house of brick and drew upon it. As building emerged in the drawing, it became its own thing with its own desires. I was myself drawn in by its presence and made attendant to its longings. I listened, in a way, to what it called for and then drew it out, again and again, all the while towards building.